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Our own Karin Tabke gave me wonderful advice several years ago regarding research.

Less is more.

I’m not a cop. I’m not a doctor. I’m not a teacher or a nurse or a bartender or a scientist or a killer. I rely on reading, interviews, and “field trips” for my information.

Reading comes first: I have more than four dozen forensic and crime research books. I’ve been reading true crime novels since reading IN COLD BLOOD by Truman Capote when I was 13. On my desk now is BOOK OF POISONS, a Writer’s Digest tome that I’ve used many times, and need for my current WIP.

But reading doesn’t always work.

For example, in SEE NO EVIL, I had a throwaway line about Valium. I don’t use Valium, and I looked at an old Vicodin prescription from my C-Section. I used those numbers, not realizing that the larger number related to the Tylenol content and the smaller number to the Vicodin. And, Vicodin is not Valium. A nurse emailed me highlighting my error. Had I not mentioned a dosage, I would have been fine.

Less is more.

Interviews are also an important part of research. While I spend more time using my books and vetted websites for the majority of my information, interviews provide me with more than just facts.

I use two types of interviews – emails and personal. Emails to friends who are experts in their field, like fellow writers CJ Lyons and Dr. DP Lyle, are extremely valuable. Writers understand writers. I can give them the set-up and what I need to have happen, and they help me with the details. Or, better, if I’m stuck—if I have this great crime by haven’t been able to put it quite together—I can explain what’s going on and we can brainstorm. I also will call professionals I don’t know—such as when I was researching Above Reproach, my GUNS AND ROSES short story, I called the public information officer for Sacramento P.D. to find out how the sex crimes unit was structured. (I learned then that there were only six detectives assigned to sex crimes in the city of Sacramento.) Brainstorming with a writer who is also an expert in their field is one of my favorite research venues. And I never discount writers on my loops like the Kiss of Death chapter or the gals here at Murder She Writes–I can always find answers to the most esoteric questions.

Personal interviews are also valuable because conversations are proactive. I can ask follow-up questions, we build a rapport, and I get the added benefit of body language.

While I love reading and talking, field trips are the most fun. I’ve been to the morgue, I’ve participated as a role player in SWAT training, and I’ve toured Folsom Prison, among many others. On Monday, I was at the FBI Academy at Quantico.

I’ve toured Quantico as part of my FBI Citizen’s Academy group, but this tour had several bonuses. I was able to go places that larger groups couldn’t—such as the BSU unit in the basement. I had the undivided attention of the Media Representative, Kurt Crawford, who answered all my questions. I met others—like the SSA in charge of physical training and defensive tactics who became an invaluable resource for STALKED, Lucy Kincaid #5, which takes place largely at the FBI Academy.

I probably didn’t have to go back and visit, but since I’m a very visual person, having the place fresh in my mind, and going places I haven’t gone before, helps me immensely. I can better picture my characters and the setting. In fact, while I’d been averaging only 1,000 words a day before my trip, I’ve written 2,000 a day this week. If nothing else, the on-site research got my muse working harder!

But with all this research—which is a lot of fun in what can sometimes be a very solitary job—I never forget what Karin taught me.

Less is more.

Most of the information I learned will never find its way into a book. In fact, probably less than 1% actually gets on the page. But feelings, atmosphere, and necessary details will find their way in print, and I hope the story is better for it.

When I participate in SWAT training or tours, I feel like I’m almost in another career. I learn so much in such a short period of time, I can almost picture myself as a cop or FBI agent or forensic pathologist. A little known bit of trivia about me? When I was in seventh grade, I said I wanted to be a forensic pathologist when I grew up. That I’ve spent a couple days at the morgue was a genuine thrill. It was a job I could have done, and because I had an interest so long ago, I absorbed a lot more than I expected. Even more important for me is staging–while I like movies to help visualize action scenes and television shows for blocking, being part of the action during role playing or observing prisoners or cops helps even more. I can’t really quantify the value–I sort of absorb what I’m seeing and use what I’ve learned to craft my own stories.

Being a writer is hugely rewarding, but I also get to live vicariously through my characters. I can be a new agent going through the FBI Academy. I can be a seasoned detective investigating a murder. And I can be a forensic pathologist finding the cause of death. At least for a few months.

If you could shadow someone in any career for a week, what would it be?

If you had told me that when I signed up for the FBI Citizen’s Academy that I would, on the third night, be sitting in front of the room on a seat pad/cushion that measured my every movement and that an agent would be saying, “Now, squeeze your buttcheeks,” I’d have said you were on crack. And if you’d have said that I would then actually squeeze said buttcheeks and watch on the screen the way the needle of the measuring device jumped and bounced, knowing that an entire class–made up mostly of men–were sitting behind me, also watching said needle jump, I would have called the men in the little white coats to come pick you up, because clearly you had lost your mind.

And I would have been wrong.

When I signed up for this, I hoped for an in-depth look into the FBI and how it works and the hierarchy as well as the way it processes or focuses on different types of cases, and that has not disappointed, at all. What I didn’t expect was to suddenly be polygraphed. But last week, we had one of the FBI’s premiere polygraph experts there to present a detailed explanation of what a polygraph is, what it can and cannot do, and how an agent interprets the results. I was very much looking forward to that section, and was actually pleasantly surprised and kind of excited, I have to admit, when I was asked to be the sole “volunteer” for a demonstration.

When the agent (I didn’t think to ask if I had his permission to use his name, so I’m going to omit it for now) approached me and explained that he needed a volunteer, I grinned and said sure — especially since he reassured me that he wouldn’t ask me anything embarrassing, he wasn’t there to humiliate me. In fact, it was going to be seriously easy: he was going to ask me to write the number “5” on a blank piece of paper. Everyone would know I wrote the number five. Then he would hook me up to the machine, ask me if I wrote the number 1, then 2, then 3, etc., through 10, and I was to say no to everything, and then he’d show the group how to know that I had lied on number five.

Sounds pretty straightforward, right? Kinda fun, actually. Because about that point, I thought to my self, “Self? you technically lie for a living. You create entire worlds that are completely believable and make it seem like words on a page are real people with real emotions. Surely you can envision the number 6 instead of the number 5, and get that image so strongly and securely in your head, it won’t be a lie any more, it’ll be just as real as the worlds you create.”

Well, it made perfect sense at the time.

I was mentally prepared for the coils that they wrap around your upper and chest (just below your armpits and above your boobs) and waist. I was prepared for the blood pressure styled cuff. I was sort of prepared for the little pincher dealies that they put on your fingertips. What I was not prepared for was the butt pad.

Yes. You read that right. Butt. Pad.

Before he hooked up anything, he tossed this small rectangular seat cushion onto the chair and told us it was a pad to measure any movement in the buttocks. Apparently, some people squeeze their buttcheeks in the hopes of creating stress in their bodies, and then let them out again, to offset the real questions that stress them. In fact, there are dozens of so-called avoidance techniques like this listed online (the majority of which do not work). To determine if someone is attempting something like this, the FBI has portable pads that they put under your rear end that measures even the tiniest of movements. And then I was instructed to sit down on said butt pad. Which I did, very carefully.

I missed the next few minutes of explanation of what we were going to do, including how I was supposed to hold my hands up to the back of my head and hold my hair up so he could put on the coil thingies, because the inside of my head was all: Dear God, if I can never ask another thing in my entire life, please please please do not make me regret those tacos right now. Please. For the love of all that is holy, let there not be any movement whatsover in my nether regions and I will become a nun or, you know, not, whatever works for you. Amen.

Then he made me squeeze my buttcheeks and I died. The end.

Well, almost.

Next thing I know, he’s teasing me because I hadn’t followed the pony-tail instructions, and all I can think is, “but that would require moving, and my butt will move and people behind me–the entire class of strangers–might misinterpret that movement…” but I kept my mouth shut and did the ponytail thing while he hooked up the coils and then put my arms down. He hooked up the cuff next, then the fingertip dealies (really, there’s probably a formal name, but they’re just like those clothespin-shaped things they put on you in the hospital to measure your pulse).

There was a lot more explanation next about what a polygraph can and cannot do. I didn’t hear most of it, as I was concentrating very avidly on not moving my buttcheeks. This took waaaaaaay more concentration than you might expect, because apparently, I am a fidgeter. I had no idea how much of a fidgeter I was until all of a sudden, any fidget I had made that damned needle bounce like it was Sly about to enter the ring on his first Rocki movie. Mostly, what I remember was that a polygraph doesn’t measure, but does record the various system responses, like respiration, blood pressure, pulse, buttcheek movement, and even microscopic perspiration in the fingertips. Since my fingertips don’t ever sweat, I couldn’t fathom how that would help, but the buttcheek thing had me worried. Also, a lot of times on TV or in the movies, we hear that a polygraph isn’t admissible in court, but they are, especially those done by the FBI or other big agencies, because the science is there to back them up (and the measurement of any forensic type of evidence is if it is something that is commonly believed by the scientific community to be true and accurate, then it is admissible). Most of the time, defense attorneys let their clients take a test in the hopes that they’ll pass and the charges will be dropped, and then often try to get those results thrown out or they try to disparage them in front of a jury, but they are actually admissible.

Finally, we get to the actual polygraph, wherein he sat behind me. Remember when he said he wasn’t going to humiliate me? First question? “How old are you?”

Um, yeah. That whole humiliation thing went out the window with the buttcheek pad, so I don’t know why I was surprised. I would have glared at him, but that would have required me to turn on said buttcheeks, and so far, I had managed to keep that damned needle still. So I told him my age, and plotted smacking him when the test was over.

Then we started the questions about the numbers. I focused on the paper that I’d written on that he’d stood in front of me and saw a six. Saw it clear as day, remembered it as writing a six, and got into a zone. My breathing stayed even, my pulse was even. The buttcheek thing was still not registering any movement. I had this cold. He got to the question about the five and I said no and we moved on to six and seven, and he stopped there.

He hadn’t let me watch (during the actual test) the polygraph needle display that he’d projected from his computer up onto an overhead screen because he said that if I viewed it, I would be reacting to my reactions, which would throw off all the results. So when I looked up there, knowing I had been completely in the zone, I was stunned to see that the needle for my fingertip respiration had jumped a huge amount on the #5 question. My pulse and respiration had barely risen, and probably on those alone, he might not have been able to pinpoint where I had lied, because while there was a slight rise, it was slow and steady and stayed even across the board.

But my fingertips gave me away.

At least it wasn’t my buttcheeks.

Up until that point, I would have thought I could beat a polygraph, but now, I know beyond a doubt I’d be nailed. I also thought I could tell for certain when someone else is lying, but now? I’m not so sure.

Can you tell a lie? Can you tell when someone is lying to you? Are little white lies okay?

I actually really enjoyed the experience–having just had that small of a taste of being polygraphed gave me an entirely new insight into what that would be like for a book I’m working on. Fascinating, really, and the FBI guys and ladies putting on this program have been phenomenal. I’ve learned tons, already, and two more weeks to go!

If you had told me that when I signed up for the FBI Citizen’s Academy that I would, on the third night, be sitting in front of the room on a seat pad/cushion that measured my every movement and that an agent would be saying, “Now, squeeze your buttcheeks,” I’d have said you were on crack. And if you’d have said that I would then actually squeeze said buttcheeks and watch on the screen the way the needle of the measuring device jumped and bounced, knowing that an entire class–made up mostly of men–were sitting behind me, also watching said needle jump, I would have called the men in the little white coats to come pick you up, because clearly you had lost your mind.

And I would have been wrong.

When I signed up for this, I hoped for an in-depth look into the FBI and how it works and the hierarchy as well as the way it processes or focuses on different types of cases, and that has not disappointed, at all. What I didn’t expect was to suddenly be polygraphed. But last week, we had one of the FBI’s premiere polygraph experts there to present a detailed explanation of what a polygraph is, what it can and cannot do, and how an agent interprets the results. I was very much looking forward to that section, and was actually pleasantly surprised and kind of excited, I have to admit, when I was asked to be the sole “volunteer” for a demonstration.

When the agent (I didn’t think to ask if I had his permission to use his name, so I’m going to omit it for now) approached me and explained that he needed a volunteer, I grinned and said sure — especially since he reassured me that he wouldn’t ask me anything embarrassing, he wasn’t there to humiliate me. In fact, it was going to be seriously easy: he was going to ask me to write the number “5” on a blank piece of paper. Everyone would know I wrote the number five. Then he would hook me up to the machine, ask me if I wrote the number 1, then 2, then 3, etc., through 10, and I was to say no to everything, and then he’d show the group how to know that I had lied on number five.

Sounds pretty straightforward, right? Kinda fun, actually. Because about that point, I thought to my self, “Self? you technically lie for a living. You create entire worlds that are completely believable and make it seem like words on a page are real people with real emotions. Surely you can envision the number 6 instead of the number 5, and get that image so strongly and securely in your head, it won’t be a lie any more, it’ll be just as real as the worlds you create.”

Well, it made perfect sense at the time.

I was mentally prepared for the coils that they wrap around your upper and chest (just below your armpits and above your boobs) and waist. I was prepared for the blood pressure styled cuff. I was sort of prepared for the little pincher dealies that they put on your fingertips. What I was not prepared for was the butt pad.

Yes. You read that right. Butt. Pad.

Before he hooked up anything, he tossed this small rectangular seat cushion onto the chair and told us it was a pad to measure any movement in the buttocks. Apparently, some people squeeze their buttcheeks in the hopes of creating stress in their bodies, and then let them out again, to offset the real questions that stress them. In fact, there are dozens of so-called avoidance techniques like this listed online (the majority of which do not work). To determine if someone is attempting something like this, the FBI has portable pads that they put under your rear end that measures even the tiniest of movements. And then I was instructed to sit down on said butt pad. Which I did, very carefully.

I missed the next few minutes of explanation of what we were going to do, including how I was supposed to hold my hands up to the back of my head and hold my hair up so he could put on the coil thingies, because the inside of my head was all: Dear God, if I can never ask another thing in my entire life, please please please do not make me regret those tacos right now. Please. For the love of all that is holy, let there not be any movement whatsover in my nether regions and I will become a nun or, you know, not, whatever works for you. Amen.

Then he made me squeeze my buttcheeks and I died. The end.

Well, almost.

Next thing I know, he’s teasing me because I hadn’t followed the pony-tail instructions, and all I can think is, “but that would require moving, and my butt will move and people behind me–the entire class of strangers–might misinterpret that movement…” but I kept my mouth shut and did the ponytail thing while he hooked up the coils and then put my arms down. He hooked up the cuff next, then the fingertip dealies (really, there’s probably a formal name, but they’re just like those clothespin-shaped things they put on you in the hospital to measure your pulse).

There was a lot more explanation next about what a polygraph can and cannot do. I didn’t hear most of it, as I was concentrating very avidly on not moving my buttcheeks. This took waaaaaaay more concentration than you might expect, because apparently, I am a fidgeter. I had no idea how much of a fidgeter I was until all of a sudden, any fidget I had made that damned needle bounce like it was Sly about to enter the ring on his first Rocki movie. Mostly, what I remember was that a polygraph doesn’t measure, but does record the various system responses, like respiration, blood pressure, pulse, buttcheek movement, and even microscopic perspiration in the fingertips. Since my fingertips don’t ever sweat, I couldn’t fathom how that would help, but the buttcheek thing had me worried. Also, a lot of times on TV or in the movies, we hear that a polygraph isn’t admissible in court, but they are, especially those done by the FBI or other big agencies, because the science is there to back them up (and the measurement of any forensic type of evidence is if it is something that is commonly believed by the scientific community to be true and accurate, then it is admissible). Most of the time, defense attorneys let their clients take a test in the hopes that they’ll pass and the charges will be dropped, and then often try to get those results thrown out or they try to disparage them in front of a jury, but they are actually admissible.

Finally, we get to the actual polygraph, wherein he sat behind me. Remember when he said he wasn’t going to humiliate me? First question? “How old are you?”

Um, yeah. That whole humiliation thing went out the window with the buttcheek pad, so I don’t know why I was surprised. I would have glared at him, but that would have required me to turn on said buttcheeks, and so far, I had managed to keep that damned needle still. So I told him my age, and plotted smacking him when the test was over.

Then we started the questions about the numbers. I focused on the paper that I’d written on that he’d stood in front of me and saw a six. Saw it clear as day, remembered it as writing a six, and got into a zone. My breathing stayed even, my pulse was even. The buttcheek thing was still not registering any movement. I had this cold. He got to the question about the five and I said no and we moved on to six and seven, and he stopped there.

He hadn’t let me watch (during the actual test) the polygraph needle display that he’d projected from his computer up onto an overhead screen because he said that if I viewed it, I would be reacting to my reactions, which would throw off all the results. So when I looked up there, knowing I had been completely in the zone, I was stunned to see that the needle for my fingertip respiration had jumped a huge amount on the #5 question. My pulse and respiration had barely risen, and probably on those alone, he might not have been able to pinpoint where I had lied, because while there was a slight rise, it was slow and steady and stayed even across the board.

But my fingertips gave me away.

At least it wasn’t my buttcheeks.

Up until that point, I would have thought I could beat a polygraph, but now, I know beyond a doubt I’d be nailed. I also thought I could tell for certain when someone else is lying, but now? I’m not so sure.

Can you tell a lie? Can you tell when someone is lying to you? Are little white lies okay?

I actually really enjoyed the experience–having just had that small of a taste of being polygraphed gave me an entirely new insight into what that would be like for a book I’m working on. Fascinating, really, and the FBI guys and ladies putting on this program have been phenomenal. I’ve learned tons, already, and two more weeks to go!

I don’t have a smoking hot excerpt like Lori (CHASING EIGHT–wow. Just wow.) And Sylvia and Rocki took care of the conference advice. But I do have a giveaway today!

I’ll be off-line until this evening because I’ve been taken hostage … in an FBI SWAT training program. It’s a tough job but someone … hell, no. It’s not a tough job. Even though it’s going to be ninety-some degrees and I’ll be in a warehouse without A/C, it’s FUN and exciting and part of my job. So don’t be surprised if sometime I write about a hostage situation … 🙂 If you want to read more about my research philosophy, you can check out my Field Trip! blog over at Murderati.

I’ve been interested in hostage situations ever since I participated in my first FBI training session and one of the scenarios involved an active shooter situation. We’ve all seen the set-ups in the movies and television, but when role playing–even though not real–it feels much more immediate. I asked some of the trainees–mostly local PD SWAT teams coming in for advanced training, of which role playing is only one part–if they found value acting out different situations. Hands down, they said yes. They go into these situations not know exactly what to expect; they are being evaluated, and after the fact walk through for analysis, which is extremely valuable–not only for them, but for me as a writer listening to why they did what they did, and the critique–both pro and con–from the trainers.

But in the half dozen or so scenarios I’ve participated in, I haven’t been a hostage … until today. So I’ll return tonight and answer your questions, if any. For now … I’m giving away FIVE copies of a special promotional printing of my digital novella, LOVE IS MURDER. This is a stand-alone Lucy Kincaid mystery. I printed a limited number of copies to distribute at RWA and Thrillerfest, but I’ve pulled aside a few for MSW readers. All you have to do is either ask me a question, or answer this question: what’s your favorite movie so far this year … or what movie are you most looking forward to?

I’ll answer that too! I was surprised at how much I enjoyed X-MEN: FIRST CLASS. Definitely worth seeing. I took my boys and while it was a bit scary for my 7 year old, he still liked it … my 10 year old LOVED it. Last night I saw SUPER 8 with my daughter, and it was also good–a little predictable, and I really don’t like movies were all the military guys are bad and keeping secrets from the citizens, but it worked better here than in other movies (cough *AVATAR* yuck cough.) I plan on seeing CARS 2 with the kids this weekend, before I leave for NYC, but the movie I’m really looking forward to later this summer is COWBOYS VS ALIENS. Until I saw the preview I was thinking ugh, but after seeing the trailer last night? It’s on the must see list. Daniel Craig. Need I say more?

Ask or answer, and five commenters will get an exclusive print version of LOVE IS MURDER, which includes an exclusive excerpt from the third Lucy Kincaid book IF I SHOULD DIE (11.22.11.)

I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU . . . DEAD

After a tough breakup with her boyfriend, Lucy Kincaid needs a different kind of break. So she heads west to join her brother, an ex-cop, for a long weekend of skiing in the mountains. At a picturesque lodge tucked high in the Sierra Nevada, Lucy finds just what she’s looking for: a peaceful retreat undisturbed by Internet, television, and cell phone distractions. She also finds an unexpected group of newlyweds seeking their own idyllic getaway.

But finding one of her fellow guests dead wasn’t in the brochure. And neither was the overnight snowstorm that leaves the lodge cut off from the outside world. When Lucy’s brother suspects the honeymooner’s death was foul play, he’s mysteriously stricken ill. Now, to keep him and herself alive, it’s up to aspiring FBI agent Lucy Kincaid to figure out which of the lovebirds trapped in the lodge is really a bird of prey.

On Tuesday, I spent the day with several SWAT teams as they went through medic training with the FBI.

🙂

SWAT–Special Weapons and Tactics- operatives specialize in hostage situations, high-risk warrant service operations, search-and-rescue operations, covert and undercover tactical operations and crowd control. Team members must complete advanced training and, while it is different from department to department, it’s rigorous and they must re-qualify continually. In the FBI, SWAT members must qualify monthly at the gun range, for example. But it’s not only firearms training–the physical training is just as demanding.

SWAT teams know how to be cops–they can take out the bad guys and secure a scene–but what about the victims? Until the paramedics arrive, SWAT is in charge–after they neutralize the danger, they need to assess injuries, give first aid, and maintain control. The victims are their patients. These guys already have experience with advanced first aid. Many are former military, and all have extensive experience–as Toni can explain better than I, to make a SWAT team requires not only a wide-range of abilities, but being the BEST at it. You can’t just make the SWAT team and coast–you are constantly tested and need to re-qualify every month.

This was the third role playing day I’ve done with the FBI, and the second that focused on triage. There were six stations the teams rotated through, including a hostage situation, a domestic situation, traffic stop gone bad, and an active shooter in a school environment. However, this time trauma surgeons and paramedics volunteered their time and expertise–at their own expense–traveling from as far as Virginia and San Diego because they are so passionate about their job and believe fully in these types of training programs.

The training sessions, which are put on by the FBI and offered to local law enforcement throughout the area, are multi-day events. On Monday, the SWAT teams–some which traveled over 150 miles to participate–took classes from the medical personnel. And on Tuesday, they put what they learned to the test.

They all know it’s not real, but a team of UC Davis trauma nurses came out to make it as real as possible, with “moulage.” Moulage is the art of applying mock injuries in training ERT’s and other medical or military personnel. Moulage is applying pre-made rubber or latex “wounds” and often uses makeup for realism (such as blood, open fractures, gunshot wounds, etc.)

The injuries could be minor:

Skinned Knees

Or life-threatening:

Stabbing

Heather above had a deep stab wound in her thigh. The medic set her up with an IV of blood attached to the rubber wound so that she could make it bleed when the SWAT team arrived. It was kind of cool 🙂 Her wound was used to teach a technique about packing with a tourniquet would be difficult or impossible to place–packing gauze deep into a gaping wound to cover as much surface area as possible to help with the clotting process.

Some of the wounds looked incredibly realistic. Such as Tom’s blunt force trauma:

Hamming it up

or this re-barb injury:

or Stan’s gunshot wound:

or my own “injury” — a protruding bone that I got from running and falling down the stairs when the shooting started.

In my scenario, there were two shooters in a school or workplace situation. SWAT came in, neutralized the suspects quickly, then tended to the victims while waiting for the helicopter and EMTs to arrive. The purpose is to, essentially, secure the scene and triage the victims–assess their injuries, perform emergency first aid (i.e. applying tourniquets, giving CPR, etc.) and prioritize for transport. Easy? Not really. As role players, we acted like victims. Once we were on–and there was simulated gun fire using paint pellets with a primer so it sounds close to a real gun–your heart races. The SWAT team comes through–and each team does it differently–to secure the site and take out the shooters. In a real situation, they’d have people running at them, or reaching for them to help, or calling over to them. There are screams and cries and they don’t know who the shooter is, often where he is, if there is a partner, how many–they have to go in assuming that everyone is a suspect. We’re not supposed to make it easy for them, because in the real world they’re going to encounter a wide variety of victims. Screaming. Hysterical. Crying. Helpful. Calm. Shock.

They need to ignore the victims while they take care of the shooters, secure the building, then tend to the victims. One thing the paramedic in my scenario suggested (and praised) was bring the victims together to share limited supplies, keep them in sight, and make them easier to treat and transport. Another point driven home: SWAT was in charge of the victims, not just the crime scene, until medical help arrived. They needed to treat us victims, talk to us, calm us down. Some of the teams were better than the others at small talk. Others were straight business.

For my part, I had a non-life threatening but extremely painful broken leg with a protruding bone. And it was bleeding pretty darn good as well. I screamed when the gunfire started, then cried, sobbing, and depending on my mood during that drill, I would either beg for someone to help me or demand to know what happened to my friend Heather (the stabbing victim.) Kathy was part of the “walking wounded” — scrapped knees and a gunshot to the arm. She was great that when she saw the SWAT guys she’d stagger over to them. I could totally see that happening in real life. (I mean, if there WAS a shooter, I would definitely want to be as close to the cops as possible! Or I’d hide. 🙂 )

We’re supposed to stay in role until the instructor calls for the team to come together. One SWAT team–which was tactically the most aggressive–quickly assessed everyone, applied the tourniquet to my leg, and then left me (as well as the other victims.) I couldn’t see what they were doing, but if I were being left without comment, I would probably want to know what the heck they were doing leaving me alone with a dead body as company. So they walk off and I called out, “Wait! Don’t leave me! I want to go home! Where are you? Please come back!” The head paramedic liked my improv 🙂

Near the end, the “helicopter” arrives and the SWAT leader is required to give a rundown of victims and injuries quickly and accurately. Then, the medic asks, “I have room for three. Who goes now?” And they need to know. If they don’t, the medic loses confidence that they’ve done the proper triage.

One of my favorite parts of the role playing drills is when the instructor walks through the scene and assesses the teams strengths and identifies areas of improvement. I say it that way because none of these SWAT teams were weak. This is where I learn the most–the little details that help me understand my characters and what they may face–both as a victim and as a hero. The facts and stats are always good to know, but it’s the reasoning behind decisions, the human factor of being a cop or a victim, that makes my books real to me, and I hope to my readers.

I talked to some of the guys afterward. Because everyone knows this isn’t real, I wanted to get their impression of the effectiveness of these types of drills. Of the three cops I spoke with, they were all enthusiastic about the program. One guy said that even though they know it’s not real, as soon as they’re geared up begin, the adrenaline starts pumping. Having role players with realistic injuries and playing a part makes it more real, and helps them focus on the situation. Everyone had praise for the medical experts who came out–on their own dime–to run the SWAT/medic training program. Some had never been in a program like this; others had participated before.

And all of them–from the SWAT operatives to the trauma surgeons to the paramedics to the FBI instructors who ran the program and assisted in the drills–are truly the everyday heroes I like to write about.

I can’t wait to do another drill. This was my third role-playing scenario. I’ve also toured Quantico (and plan to go back later this year), toured the morgue and observed an autopsy, and toured Folsom prison (and was warned that they don’t negotiate–so please don’t be taken hostage.) And more–I have been both lucky and blessed to be able to do a lot of these research “trips”–because while I love reading and learning from books, there’s nothing like going on-scene. I haven’t done a ride-along yet, but it’s high up on my list.

One of the other drills was a barroom hostage situation–the suspect stabbed his girlfriend and had a gun on her. He shoots at the cops when they come in, then is gunned down. So the scenario is designed to deal with both an officer down and life-threatening injuries to a hostage. Here’s a shot from the catwalk of that scenario:

And here is me with Joe Getty, from the morning radio program Armstrong and Getty. I did another scenario with Joe–when he was a bad guy and I was the wife of a wanted sex offender. On that day, we were both handcuffed and decided that being cuffed wasn’t fun!

Joe Getty & Me

My question for you all whether or not you’re a writer, what’s the one “research trip” you’d be excited about? Role playing with SWAT? A ride-along with local cops? Firefighters? A tour of the morgue? A prison? A military base? What about flying a plane with a fighter pilot, learning to parachute, or touring the underground tunnels in Sacramento? Shadowing a judge? A prosecutor? It can be anything, just something you’ve always wanted to learn about outside of your normal profession or hobbies. Comment for a chance to win a $25 gift certificate to the online bookstore of your choice!

On a more personal note, thank you to everyone who helped put KISS ME, KILL ME on the NYT list (#16) and the USAT list (#32)! I’m now deep into writing IF I SHOULD DIE, which is scheduled to be released on 11.22.11. And I’m giving you all a sneak peak at the new cover . . . which looks so good with the first two Lucy books.

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Bio:

Allison Brennan

Allison Brennan is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of nearly three dozen romantic thrillers and mysteries, including the Lucy Kincaid series and the Max Revere series. She lives in Northern California with her husband, five children, and assorted pets.